My weekdays are open from about 12pm to 7pm, give or take. My weekends are free.

Writing Levels:

Adept, Advanced, Prestige

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Male

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

Fine doing both, but more aggressive to be honest. I like having a plot and making decisions. What I like best, though, is to work things out with my partner. I like partners who pull their own weight and don't have trouble moving the story along themselves. Communication is key, please!

It was where the rich, the elite and the Traders came to play; an underground nightclub that doubled as a slave auction. Only those with a great deal of money could afford an Abnormal as they were the rarest delicacy, the hardest species to come by right now. The Government was keen on taking all those that they could. It was almost a fun competition to see who could acquire which Abnormal, which power added to the collection. Perhaps once the Abnormals had been considered human, but no more. The humans feared them more every day and even the other species, only tolerated themselves, were starting to reject the strange new breed of human if only because being seen with an Abnormal was asking for trouble.

No, the only excuse for being near the new breed was to claim ownership over one and like flies to honey, the rich came flocking to the exotic specimen the Traders were more than willing to provide them with.

That was the position Ryethke found herself in now as she watched the flashing lights and mingling bodies from between the bars of her cage. She wasn't the only Abnormal up for auction tonight - there were four others; three boys ranging from ages fourteen to eight and a girl of twelve - but she was the oldest, appearing at around sixteen and she was different than the four others. She was the only one who knew that, though, and Ryethke wasn't about to make that public knowledge. She'd been with these slavers for nearly six months now and others before them. She knew how to stay quiet and try to blend in.

And as she watched the festivities around her with hatred, she knew those skills would probably be the only thing that would help her right now. Her powers certainly weren't going to be any use. The metal collar around her neck would see to that.

Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week

Writing Levels:

Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

I like for it to be a group effort. If I'm going to run the entire plot and every little thing in it, screw it. I'll just open up Word and write my own story. Likewise, if I wanted to skate alongside a story and not contribute anything to it, I'll pick up a book. It's a team effort.

Ciro sat forward in the limo, his elbows on his knees, staring at his hands through dark sunglasses. He reached up to adjust his earpiece, then smoothed his hair down over it. He was excited. Really fucking excited. But he had to calm himself down. If he got too excited, his sister got too excited, and when she got too excited, there was bloodshed. Typically. He thanked whatever deity was out there that this had happened on a full moon and not a new moon. She was much more stable on the full moon.

He looked up at the others in the car. Their intel had informed them that there were five Abnormals up for sale and Plan A was to go in and buy them for themselves, outbidding everyone and just not paying at the end of the night. That said, there was no budget so it should go well. Of course, there were many factors to add in. Alcmene was one of them. But he couldn't do this alone. He needed his sister with him. Then there was the fact that one of the Abnormals could snap and start shooting fireballs or ice or gods know what else out around the room. Then their job would turn into damage control. Then there was the option of the Normals having some sort of Abnormal detector as they walked in. If that was the case, things would get very bad very fast.

But, they had a plan for everything. He gave a smirk to the others and put his finger to his ear piece, mostly to bring the speaker in his cufflinks to his ear. "Check, 1, 2."

Alcmene gave a nod and reached down, adjusting her bracelet. She brought her own hand up. "Clear copy."

"Clear copy two." Said another young man in the car. A werewolf. He cracked his neck and shifted uncomfortably in his suit. "We're making this fast, right?" He asked into his own system, half to check it, half because everyone else was doing it. They were all in the same limo, they didn't have to, but they were doing it anyway. Sylvester was technically only three years old. He had been born a wolf. He just followed everyone else's lead when he had to act human.

Emily smiled and checked her own system. "Clear copy 3. And we'll get you out of your suit and treat your fleas as soon as we can, Syl. Don't worry."

"I don't have fleas, bitch!"

She looked over at him and gave him a calm smile. "We shouldn't have brought you."

"I'm here for security. When shit hits the fan, you'll turn around and say 'Oh, Syl! Save us with your muscles and your big sharp teeth and claws!'"

"You both need to calm down." Alcmene said, quite calmly herself. She was sitting straight, looking out the window. "We need this to go smoothly. We don't need more bloodshed."

"Give me a blood moon, Luna." He crawled across the floor of the limo to kneel at her feet, putting his hands up on her knees. "Give me something to howl at..."

Ciro reached over and thumped him on the nose. "Bad dog! Get down. Go back to your seat." He said sternly, pointing. "Bad dog!"

"Ah fuck you, man..." He turned around though and crawled back into his seat. "Are we there yet?"

"Almost. We can't show up too early." She turned to look at him. "We want to be in there for the least amount of time possible. The less time we're inside, the less of a chance they get to figure out what's going on."

My weekdays are open from about 12pm to 7pm, give or take. My weekends are free.

Writing Levels:

Adept, Advanced, Prestige

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Male

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

Fine doing both, but more aggressive to be honest. I like having a plot and making decisions. What I like best, though, is to work things out with my partner. I like partners who pull their own weight and don't have trouble moving the story along themselves. Communication is key, please!

Ryethke instantly recognized the Trader who finally approached the cage. The man was much taller than her – but then again, everyone usually was – with an ugly scar over his right eye, a weathered complexion and a nasty sneer. She felt a shiver trail down her spine as he grew closer, but did her best to hide it as she could feel the children behind her shaking in terror of their own. She might not be able to get them out of this mess, but she could at least be brave for them, show them courage. Yeah, it kinda cancelled out the whole ‘be inconspicuous’ thing, but sometimes one had to choose HOW to fight a battle. This one didn’t really seem to call for finesse anymore in Ryethke’s way of thinking. She was going to be sold either way; docile or hellion.

Might as well go down fighting.

The children whimpered and shrank back as the cage door grated open and the Trader pointed to the youngest boy. “You, rat, out.”

The boy shook his head, tears running down his face as he pressed back against the bars, desperate to escape and Ryethke felt her blood boil with fury as she moved between the child and the Trader, her voice a growl and the collar on her neck sparking as her eyes glowed gold, preventing her from using her powers. “Coward! Scum! He’s only a child!”

The man laughed at her outburst and reached forward like a striking snake to grab her arm in a bruising grip, pulling her out with a sharp yank. “Well, minx, if you are so eager to take his place, please don’t let us stop you.” He laughed again, shoving her into the arms of two waiting Traders who grinned and held her tightly as she started to struggle, dragging her toward the auctioning stage as Ryethke let out a screech of anger that almost sounded inhumane.

Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week

Writing Levels:

Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

I like for it to be a group effort. If I'm going to run the entire plot and every little thing in it, screw it. I'll just open up Word and write my own story. Likewise, if I wanted to skate alongside a story and not contribute anything to it, I'll pick up a book. It's a team effort.

The car pulled to a stop. "Lets go. Everyone behave." He said, shooting the werewolf a look. When the door was opened, he slid out since he was closest. He reached a hand down to help his sister out, placing a kiss on her cheek and holding her close for a minute. Are you ok to do this? He asked, pressing his forehead to her temple. No words passed his lips as he asked her this.

It's a full moon, Anatoly. Of course I'm fine. She gave her brother a smile and kissed his cheek. "Stop worrying." She stepped past him so he could help Emily out. She took the other woman's arm and walked in with her like they owned the place. Emily scanned the room as they walked in, quietly disgusted at the people that she would be if she hadn't...let her powers out as a child. She took a drink off a tray as it passed and walked with Alcmene up to the stage.

Sylvester hopped out of the car and looked at Ciro. "Don't touch me." He turned and walked into the building, looking around. The sound hurt his ears. The smells were almost too much. They all smelled like prey and booze and finery beyond mention. Wafting above it all was the smell of fear and anger. He turned his head towards wherever the other Abnormals were being kept. "Children, Ciro. ****ing children."

He stepped up to the werewolf's side and put a hand on his back. "We'll get them. Don't worry. And don't blow this for us." He followed the women up to the stage, gently ushering Sylvester with them.

My weekdays are open from about 12pm to 7pm, give or take. My weekends are free.

Writing Levels:

Adept, Advanced, Prestige

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Male

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

Fine doing both, but more aggressive to be honest. I like having a plot and making decisions. What I like best, though, is to work things out with my partner. I like partners who pull their own weight and don't have trouble moving the story along themselves. Communication is key, please!

The Traders had to work to get her up the stairs and by the time they were on the stage, both of them were bleeding from nail-marks and bites. Ryethke was more than sure one of the men had a broken finger and both of them were going to be VERY bruised tomorrow. Her writhing, arching struggles didn’t amount to much in the grand scheme, though, and they came to an abrupt halt when her stomach was suddenly struck with a harsh blow and she doubled over on herself, gasping for air as the arms behind her held her up and restrained.

Her head was pulled up quickly by her wild red hair and her head snapped to the side as a palm slammed into her cheek. Ryethke tasted blood and as her head was pulled back further, painfully so, she spat the red fluid into the Trader’s face, baring red teeth at him defiantly. The man only glared at her for a moment before smoothing his facial features and turning to address the crowd, making the situation work to his advantage.

“As you can see, she still needs some training, but we all know the older ones are the most…fun to break. She is a fire-bender, untrained, but that only adds to the wildness. She comes all the way from Scotland, a real exotic purchase.”

He winked here and if Ryethke could have wiped the suggestive smirk off the man’s face, she would have done it painfully…and slowly, her dark brown eyes promised that as she glared with rage at the crowd. The Trader in front of her pretended not to notice, giving the rich his most charming smile. "Shall we start the bidding?"

Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week

Writing Levels:

Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

I like for it to be a group effort. If I'm going to run the entire plot and every little thing in it, screw it. I'll just open up Word and write my own story. Likewise, if I wanted to skate alongside a story and not contribute anything to it, I'll pick up a book. It's a team effort.

Sylvester felt his rage building as he watched the spectacle on the stage. Subconsciously, the Normals that were around him started to edge away, leaving his companions to fill in the gap so it didn't look awkward.

"Scotland? That's what you call exotic?" Ciro called, frowning. "I'd start the bidding at fifty." He knew it was an insultingly low number. "Something that needs to be trained that hard?"

Emily let out a light laugh. "Oh, darling, don't insult the girl! I know you like redheads! I'll go up to 100!"

Alcmene watched the girl quietly, her blue eyes both striking and soft. There was a look on her face as if she was telling the girl not to worry...that everything would be ok...but that she should keep fighting to keep the price down.

My weekdays are open from about 12pm to 7pm, give or take. My weekends are free.

Writing Levels:

Adept, Advanced, Prestige

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Male

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

Fine doing both, but more aggressive to be honest. I like having a plot and making decisions. What I like best, though, is to work things out with my partner. I like partners who pull their own weight and don't have trouble moving the story along themselves. Communication is key, please!

Ryethke's dark brown eyes snapped to the group gathered by the stage when the bidding started and as soon as her gaze landed on the first male, confusion mixed with the anger boiling inside her. A Werewolf? Had Abnormals really become so hated that a Werewolf would bid on one? She had run with the wolves in her childhood, in Scotland. The sudden stab of betrayal was like a dagger of ice to her heart and the anger swamped her again, cancelling out everything else as her eyes flickered again over the group.

When the woman laughed, bidding to a hundred, Ryethke snorted, blood pouring from her nose and down her chin to soak into her bland, ripped tan clothing. "Don't waste your money, sweetheart. Buy me, and I PROMISE you it will be the last thing you're proud of." She didn't have to shout it, her voice a hiss in the suddenly much quieter room. There was a tangible charge of electric-like heat in the air and Ryethke's eyes glowed gold, a glow of red licking about her cheekbones despite the collar.

The Trader chuckled, grabbing her hair again and giving it a hard tug, his fingers digging warningly into her scalp. "If the buyer desires it, her tongue can be silenced before she is bought." It was as much a threat as a genuine offer.

Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week

Writing Levels:

Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

I like for it to be a group effort. If I'm going to run the entire plot and every little thing in it, screw it. I'll just open up Word and write my own story. Likewise, if I wanted to skate alongside a story and not contribute anything to it, I'll pick up a book. It's a team effort.

"Two hundred and she remains untouched." Alcmene looked up at the trader. "And you clean up the damage you have done to her. I do not buy damaged goods and you have done nothing but try and break her since she was put on the stage." Her voice was calm but powerful, like a rippling brook that could turn into a raging river. She looked at the woman on the stage, trying to lock eyes with her. She needed Ryethke to calm down. She did not need this to end in bloodshed....despite how badly Sylvester was tugging at his proverbial leash and drooling to sink his teeth into something.

Sylvester was definitely good for one thing. The unsettling air he gave off, mixed with what the fae was doing, was causing no one else to bid. He shifted a bit, seeing her for the fae she was. He felt horrible for being there and making her think he was not on her side, but they had a job to do...

My weekdays are open from about 12pm to 7pm, give or take. My weekends are free.

Writing Levels:

Adept, Advanced, Prestige

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Male

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

Fine doing both, but more aggressive to be honest. I like having a plot and making decisions. What I like best, though, is to work things out with my partner. I like partners who pull their own weight and don't have trouble moving the story along themselves. Communication is key, please!

The Trader looked like he wanted to protest, but as he looked around, he seemed to finally realize there wouldn't be anymore bidders and he finally accepted the price with a forced smile. "Sold to the lovely silver Lady." He pushed Ryethke back into the Traders still holding her, but the Fae didn't protest this time, distracted as she locked eyes with a pair of ethereal pale blue ones. The woman who had bought her. Ryethke had honestly thought that it would be one of the men and having her new owner be a woman threw her off slightly.

It wasn't just that, though, it was the strange aura she felt coming off the pale-haired woman. It was....calming. And she honestly wasn't sure whether she should be wary about that or not. Was it a trick? Or was it genuine? As she was pulled off the stage, Ryethke frowned, keeping her eyes on the woman...and then the group. Because that was what they were, weren't they? They'd played off each other so well she'd not noticed it until now.

It didn't really matter that she had now, though, as she was finally led out of sight. Once away from watching eyes, Ryethke braced herself for the pain that was sure to come and sure enough, she felt her headache increase another notch as she was struck again. The Fae growled low in her throat, but the fight had run out of her. Her body shook now as the adrenaline started to wear off and the fear started to kick in.

She'd been sold. She'd been sold and now she was going to be 'cleaned up' when the last thing she wanted was these monsters touching her. Ryethke stared ahead and let her mind start to drift, the only defense she really had anymore.

Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week

Writing Levels:

Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

I like for it to be a group effort. If I'm going to run the entire plot and every little thing in it, screw it. I'll just open up Word and write my own story. Likewise, if I wanted to skate alongside a story and not contribute anything to it, I'll pick up a book. It's a team effort.

Alcmene gently brushed her way through the crowd towards the back door. She walked in and looked around, hands held dociley in front of her. She walked up to Ryethke and looked down at her. "You've struck her again." She turned her eyes to the trader. "That was not part of the deal." She just had this aura about her that said it was futile to argue with her. "I would like to know how this discrepancy will be made up for."

Outside, Ciro kept mental tabs on his twin. This could go very, very poorly very, very quickly. It was putting him slightly on edge. His sister was putting herself in a position that could anger her quickly and Sylvester was chomping at the bit. Any more of this and things were going to get ugly fast. They needed to win bids on everyone and get out.

Emily was also uneasy. Mostly from the werewolf, but now Ciro was giving off an uneasy air as well. She wanted to just get this over with. She looked up at the stage, wondering what the hold up was in bringing out the next Abnormal.

My weekdays are open from about 12pm to 7pm, give or take. My weekends are free.

Writing Levels:

Adept, Advanced, Prestige

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Male

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

Fine doing both, but more aggressive to be honest. I like having a plot and making decisions. What I like best, though, is to work things out with my partner. I like partners who pull their own weight and don't have trouble moving the story along themselves. Communication is key, please!

The next Abnormal was brought out without fanfare. All four of them would be. As children, they were terrified and didn't know what to do, didn't know how to fight back against this. And the only form of comfort and safety they'd had was Ryethke and she was gone. They wouldn't be causing any trouble and the Traders knew it as they relaxed slightly and the air in the club returned to an easier vibe.

Ryethke started when she heard the woman's voice, jolting back to awareness with a flash of gold in her eyes and her body tensing, expecting....well, something. When the woman did nothing more than look at her, though, she simply stayed still, unsure how to react now. She certainly didn't know what to think when the woman addressed the Trader in such a manner and she let her dark brown eyes flicker to the man as well, interested despite herself.

The Trader looked impatient as he started to draw up the documents needed for purchasing and addressed the Alcmene distractedly. "We'll take 10 off the price. She's got thick skin."

Ryethke bit her tongue against a lashing retort and stared straight ahead again. It wasn't worth it. She just had to keep telling herself that. Besides, her efforts would be better spent trying to think of a way to get away from her new owner than antagonizing the Traders into beating her again, new owner or no.

Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week

Writing Levels:

Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

I like for it to be a group effort. If I'm going to run the entire plot and every little thing in it, screw it. I'll just open up Word and write my own story. Likewise, if I wanted to skate alongside a story and not contribute anything to it, I'll pick up a book. It's a team effort.

"Ten? You've practically ruined her! This is absolutely unacceptable! She's bleeding, probably broken bones, I can see bruises start to form! No! There is too much work that needs to be done on her and you are personally responsible for this! I have so much work to do on her, I...I..." She pursed her lips. "You will take more off the price or I will see to it that I take your job."

Ciro and Emily played off each other while bidding for the children, working to make sure they got every single one of them. Working without an actual budget made it that much easier...

My weekdays are open from about 12pm to 7pm, give or take. My weekends are free.

Writing Levels:

Adept, Advanced, Prestige

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Male

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

Fine doing both, but more aggressive to be honest. I like having a plot and making decisions. What I like best, though, is to work things out with my partner. I like partners who pull their own weight and don't have trouble moving the story along themselves. Communication is key, please!

Ryethke found her gaze sliding to the pale-haired woman with a look of incredibility, almost unable to believe what she was hearing. Did this woman actually CARE....or no...she probably just wanted a well-groomed, pretty pet to show off. It almost made the Fae want to refuse the wet cloth that was thrown at her, but she caught it with a scowl and started to wipe the blood from her nose and chin, getting her neck as well as she was able, but smearing the red more than anything. Oh, well, there was nothing in this place that was going to get her presentable looking. Hell, she hadn't been presentable in nearly three years. Another minute, hour, day...it wasn't going to matter.

"Fine, fine. No need to get agitated. 50 off the price, but that's as low as I'll go. That she-devil's cost me nothing but trouble. I will get some profit out of her." The Trader glared at the Fae and Ryethke merely grinned back, a feral expression that matched her overall dirty, bloodstained, bruised, scarred, ratted hair look. "My pleasure."

The Trader looked like he wanted to strangle her, but as the other Abnormals were brought in, he didn't even get the chance to truly contemplate the idea as the children ran to the Fae, swamping her with their small arms, the small boy being the most vocal about his relief in seeing her.

"Ryeth!!" he sobbed her name into her shirt and Ryethke stroked his head reassuringly, her own condition forgotten as she looked the other three children over. "Shh, it's all right. It'll be okay." Even as she said the words, she wasn't sure she believed them.

Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week

Writing Levels:

Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

I like for it to be a group effort. If I'm going to run the entire plot and every little thing in it, screw it. I'll just open up Word and write my own story. Likewise, if I wanted to skate alongside a story and not contribute anything to it, I'll pick up a book. It's a team effort.

Alcmene counted the children quickly before spinning and jabbing a knife out of nowhere into the trader's stomach, her other hand clamped tightly over his mouth. She shoved him back up against a wall and watched his eyes as the life drained out of them. She let the body slide down and hit the floor before she turned to the others. "Ryeth? Is that what he called you? You need to keep the children close." She brought her wrist up to her mouth. "We need to leave, boys."

"Alcmene! What did you do?" Could be heard faintly through her earpiece.

"I'm giving Syl his blood moon."

There was a very excited howl followed quickly by the cracking and groaning of a werewolf shifting into its war form. The howl came again, people screaming and rushing for the doors.

All hell broke loose outside. Ciro burst into the room, his wings ripping out of his suit. "We were supposed to make this quick!"

"He upset me." She said calmly, her skin taking on a soft blue glow. She walked over to the small group. "We need an exit that isn't through the front. Were you brought here through a back exit? A loading dock maybe?"

He spread his golden wings to block the view into the other room. There was a werewolf and a blood-bender out there...it wasn't pretty...

My weekdays are open from about 12pm to 7pm, give or take. My weekends are free.

Writing Levels:

Adept, Advanced, Prestige

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Male

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

Fine doing both, but more aggressive to be honest. I like having a plot and making decisions. What I like best, though, is to work things out with my partner. I like partners who pull their own weight and don't have trouble moving the story along themselves. Communication is key, please!

Ryeth's mind spun crazily in the few moments it took for the world to shift out of control and then back into context. Abnormals. They were freaking ABNORMALS! And they'd bought her? No. No, that was ridiculous. They were HELPING. She allowed her eyes to close for a brief moment, relief flooding through her veins and then something just a little more potent as they opened again, going from a dark brown to a deep, dark gold as the Fae smirked, looking between the woman called Alcmene and the blond angel - well he LOOKED like one! - that stood in the doorway.

"Back exit." She said nothing more, spinning on her heel and giving the children a once-over before saying one simple word to them. "Follow." Four small faces nodded and trailed behind her closely as she started toward the back way at a jog, not looking back. Whether these people stayed with them or not, she was getting out of here.

The first person to get in her way went down in a heap as Ryeth leaped with all the grace of a deer and using her hands, snapped his neck before she landed a few feet away and started loping again, only glancing back long enough to see four determined faces keeping up with her.

Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week

Writing Levels:

Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

I like for it to be a group effort. If I'm going to run the entire plot and every little thing in it, screw it. I'll just open up Word and write my own story. Likewise, if I wanted to skate alongside a story and not contribute anything to it, I'll pick up a book. It's a team effort.

Alcmene ripped the back of her dress with her own soft white wings. She kicked the ground and took off after the small group to make sure everything would be ok.

Ciro brought his wrist up to his mouth. "There's a back exit. Bring the car around. Emily, Sylvester, get yourselves out of there alive." He kicked off to follow his sister and the others down the hallway.

"Roger!" She looked around the room. Most of the rich had simply screamed and fled and the guards from the main room were...quite dead. She smirked. "Sylvester! Don't eat that! You don't know where it's been!" She walked over to the man and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, pulling. "Come on! We need to go!"

He whined and licked off his muzzle. He nipped at her, then took off on all fours, bounding down the corridor after the others with Emily swinging up onto his back.

The driver brought the car around back and stepped out, tossing his hat down into the seat and unbuttoning the top button of his tux. He walked around and opened up the back door and waited, lighting up a cigarette...without matches....

My weekdays are open from about 12pm to 7pm, give or take. My weekends are free.

Writing Levels:

Adept, Advanced, Prestige

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Male

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

Fine doing both, but more aggressive to be honest. I like having a plot and making decisions. What I like best, though, is to work things out with my partner. I like partners who pull their own weight and don't have trouble moving the story along themselves. Communication is key, please!

Ryeth burst out the back door a bit recklessly and looked around quickly before spotting the car. She wasn't entirely sure it was waiting there for them, but decided to take a risk - it would make sense that they'd have transportation waiting, right? - and directed the children toward the vehicle, her senses on alert for danger as she watched them go. Her ears caught the sound of approaching feet first and then the distinct noise of guns cocking.

The first shot fired hit its mark true and Ryeth felt the world slow as she watched the little girl who'd been just ahead of her fall, blood flying as the bullet exited her head. She crumpled to the ground, sightless eyes staring at nothing. The Fae stared, feeling numb until she heard another shot fired, this one just missing her shoulder. Her eyes snapped away from the dead girl to the guards lining the street and power roared to life within her, overwhelming the metal around her neck as her palms hit the ground and a scream erupted from her throat, chilling and unearthly.

The ground heaved and the cement broke with a sound like thunder, the very earth roaring its fury as it sent the men flying into the buildings.

Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week

Writing Levels:

Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

I like for it to be a group effort. If I'm going to run the entire plot and every little thing in it, screw it. I'll just open up Word and write my own story. Likewise, if I wanted to skate alongside a story and not contribute anything to it, I'll pick up a book. It's a team effort.

At the sound of the men coming, the guy who had stayed behind as a driver dropped to the ground, slamming his palms flat to the concrete. Fire errupted in a line from his hands to try and do something to shield them from the guards. When he saw the girl fall, his heart sank. "EVERYONE INTO THE CAR!" He shouted, just before bursting into flame himself and sprinting towards the men, even if they were flying through the air.

With a great thrust of her wings, she sped forward, scooping up the smallest of the children and getting between the others and the men with the guns. She deposited them into the car and looked up at the moon. It had taken on a red shade. She turned away, her eyes holding that same shine to them, her body glowing as well. She let out a scream most likened to a banshee as she spread her wings, taking off after some of the men. Her teeth grew pointed, her jaw stretched, it was not going to be pretty.

Ciro ran out and over to the body of the girl. He took his ruined jacket off and wrapped her in it as best he could. He picked her up and went back to the trunk, opening it up and placing the body inside, nestled gently in a coil of rope. He then slid around and ducked into the car. He grabbed the children and pulled them towards him, wrapping his arms and wings around all of them. "Shh...everything's going to be ok...you're safe now, I promise you that...we're taking you somewhere safe..."

Sylvester burst through the doors moments later, Emily holding tight to his back. He skid to a stop and looked around. Well ****. It looked like he missed the party.

Emily climbed off his back and grabbed Ryeth, leading her to the car. "Just get in! Oh **** it!" She said, eying the scorch marks on the ground. That was TWO men that needed new clothes now! She pushed Ryeth into the back of the car and had her lie down on the seat. "Just stay down." She ran around to the drivers side and jumped in, closing the door. "Stupid thing drives like a boat!" She said, starting to try and turn the limo around in the tight area.

He scrambled in through the open door as the car started moving, blood and drool dangling in strands off his maw. He turned to nose into the fairy, pushing his nose against her stomach and sort of half-heartedly wagging his tail.

My weekdays are open from about 12pm to 7pm, give or take. My weekends are free.

Writing Levels:

Adept, Advanced, Prestige

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Male

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

Fine doing both, but more aggressive to be honest. I like having a plot and making decisions. What I like best, though, is to work things out with my partner. I like partners who pull their own weight and don't have trouble moving the story along themselves. Communication is key, please!

Ryeth had let the woman pull her into the car, dazed and dizzy, and not at all ready to make her own decisions on where her body should be. She lay on the seat quietly, gripping the leather with white-knuckled hands, feeling her stomach clench and heave unpleasantly as the limo started to move. She didn't realize she'd closed her eyes until she felt the nudge against her middle - and the bruises there - and let out a hiss, dull brown eyes flickering upon to look into those of the wolf. Ryeth blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision as she let go of the seat with one hand and rested it shakily on the werewolf's head.

"Yeah, I know. Whole deception thing wasn't true, yada, yada, yada. Forgiven." She took a deep breath after speaking and closed her eyes again, gritting her teeth. Damn, she hurt all over and now that collar around her neck burned in a maddening way. Mental check; if wearing power-limiting devices, don't force power to come out and play. Not pleasant.

"Ryeth?" The small voice brought the Fae out of her ramblings and she took the effort to open her eyes again, looking toward where she thought the little boy was. Right now there were two of him, so it was a 50/50 guess.... "Yeah, Seth?" She watched as the child slipped out from under the blond's wings and inched carefully to her side, looking warily at the wolf and the blood on him. He whispered his question loudly, subtly really not his strong suite. "Who are they?"

Ryeth blinked and for the first time since getting in the car, actually looked around. Her hand unconsciously tightened in the werewolf's fur in sudden uncertainty, but truth be told, she wasn't even really aware she was still touching him. The Fae squinted, wishing her vision would settle and her limbs didn't feel like lead. "I....really don't know, Seth, but that is a very good question."

Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week

Writing Levels:

Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable

Genders You Prefer Playing:

Male, Female

Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive:

I like for it to be a group effort. If I'm going to run the entire plot and every little thing in it, screw it. I'll just open up Word and write my own story. Likewise, if I wanted to skate alongside a story and not contribute anything to it, I'll pick up a book. It's a team effort.

Syl whimpered when her grip tightened on him. He shifted down from his big scary war form to the form of a normal looking (if slightly larger) wolf. He climbed up into the seat with her and just laid down on top of her like...well, like a dog that thought it was a lap dog but was really a wolf...

"We are the Resistance. Abormals For Equal Treatment. We have a few names." He sat back, letting his wings fold back behind his back. He started taking what was left of his shirt off of himself. He glanced out the window, sighing. He owed Emily money. They had bet on who would crack and kill someone first. He had said Sylvester, Emily had said it would be his twin. He reached up and opened up the sun roof.

She landed down on the car with a thud, putting the fire guy down in through the window once he turned off the fire. She climbed down next and closed the roof.

"Ugh! Finally! Aiden, get up here and drive this stupid thing!"

He crawled up front through the window, ignoring the fact that, well...his clothes had kinda burned off. He switched places with Emily and started driving.

"No one needed to see that..." She sighed and looked out the window, staying in the front seat since she was in a fancy dress.

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